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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25238518">strawberries on a summer evening</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomfantaaa/pseuds/phantomfantaaa'>phantomfantaaa</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Check Please! (Webcomic)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic Fluff, First Time, First time having sex, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Jack visits Madison, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Songfic, jack says consent is sexy and also mandatory</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:07:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,528</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25238518</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomfantaaa/pseuds/phantomfantaaa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack is visiting Bitty in Madison for the Fourth of July, and Bitty has a few items on the itinerary: midnight pancakes, picnics, historical museums, stargazing, a Bittle-Phelps barbecue, the county fair, and a lot of fooling around.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>210</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>strawberries on a summer evening</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>~tastes like strawberries on a summer evening, and it sounds just like a song~</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bitty taps his fingers on the steering wheel and fiddles with the radio. The Top 40 station is playing a new Nicki Minaj song, but he’s so nervous that he can’t even sing along. He’s been jittery for the entire hour-long drive from Madison to Atlanta, and as he merges his dad’s truck onto the exit ramp and rapidly approaches the airport, Bitty can feel his heart pounding against his chest. He can see planes taking off and landing in the distance, and he wonders if one of those planes is Jack’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s their first time seeing each other in over a month since Jack kissed Bitty at graduation, and well… Bitty knows that there’s a difference between FaceTiming with a thousand miles between them and actually seeing each other in person. He hopes that it’s not a bad difference.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bitty finds a parking spot, and once the engine is turned off, he reaches over to the passenger seat and grabs a box of cookies: sugar crusted maple, Jack’s favorite. He checks the time on his phone and sees a text, sent five minutes ago, from Jack saying that his plane has landed. Bitty hurries and follows the signs that say </span>
  <em>
    <span>Arrivals</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He nervously fidgets with the container of cookies as he waits by the baggage claim carousels, eyes glued to the handful of people trickling out from the gates. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Jack spots Bitty, he breaks out in a smile so bright that it could light up all of Atlanta, and Bitty feels all his worries melt away. And when Jack wraps his arms around Bitty and holds him tight to his chest and presses his cheek against Bitty’s hair, Bitty thinks to himself, </span>
  <em>
    <span>of course it’s going to be okay.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They finally pull apart, and Bitty looks into Jack’s blue eyes and feels his heart swell. Jack reaches up to touch Bitty’s cheek, but he hesitates and drops his gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I probably shouldn’t kiss you here, huh?” he asks in a low voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bitty’s smile fades, but he tries to keep his voice bright. “Probably not. It’s Atlanta, but still… You never know who might be looking.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this for me?” Jack pokes the plastic container in Bitty’s hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bitty opens the lid and grins up at Jack. “They’re maple crusted sugar!” Jack immediately snatches up a cookie and shoves it in his mouth, and his eyes roll to the back of his head. The expression conjures a thousand lewd images in Bitty’s mind, and he tries to keep his composure. “Only the best for my favorite French-Canadian boy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bits. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> the best.” Bitty beams at the compliment. “Seriously. How do you do it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A boy never reveals his secrets,” Bitty replies, winking at Jack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Together, they walk out of the airport terminal and back to the parking lot. As soon as the truck doors close, Jack leans across the center console and pulls Bitty into a searing kiss. Their first since graduation, and it’s deep and hot and desperate—the kind of kiss that only comes after being a thousand miles apart for months. Jack runs a hand through Bitty’s hair, and Bitty absolutely melts. When he runs his tongue along Jack’s lower lip, he can taste the maple sugar, and he thinks about how he never wants that taste to leave his mouth. When Jack pulls back, Bitty whines, but the whine turns into a choked whimper when Jack presses his mouth against the soft skin of Bitty’s neck, one hand cradling the back of his head and the other firmly holding his waist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jack,” Bitty whispers, desperate, “Sweetheart, someone could still see us, we shouldn’t…” He never finishes the sentence because Jack’s lips are back on his, and all Bitty wants to do is drink in every last bit of Jack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time they drive back to Madison, it’s well past midnight, and Bitty can tell his parents are asleep by the pitch-black darkness in the house. He flicks on the light, and it takes him a second to adjust to the dissonance of Jack—his </span>
  <em>
    <span>boyfriend</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he reminds himself—standing in his kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you eaten yet? I can whip up something quick if you’re hungry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack wrinkles his nose. “Yeah, I actually missed dinner because I went straight to the airport after training.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe you didn’t say anything until now!” Bitty swats Jack’s arm and reaches to put on an apron. Jack eyes the addition to Bitty’s outfit and pulls him in, planting a sloppy kiss on his cheek. Bitty pretends to squirm and smacks a hand against Jack’s arm, but Jack just pulls him in closer and they stand there, in the middle of the kitchen, holding each other for a few seconds before Jack releases Bitty so he can start cooking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I help?” Jack asks, wrapping his arms around Bitty’s waist from behind as Bitty chops strawberries at the counter. Bitty cranes his neck around and steals a quick kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can cut the rest of these while I get the batter started?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack slides next to Bitty and gently hip checks him aside. “I’m pretty sure I can handle that.” Jack looks down at Bitty and winks, and Bitty feels his heart rate increase. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They cook together in the kitchen, maneuvering around each other as if they’ve been doing this for years. They talk about anything and everything—from hockey practice to war documentaries, Jack finding a home in Providence to Bitty’s summer in Madison—in low voices to not wake up Bitty’s parents. Bitty pours the batter into the skillet, and Jack adds the fruit, and they eat their midnight pancakes side-by-side. They do the dishes together—Jack washes, and Bitty rinses and dries—and it all feels so blissfully domestic that Bitty can’t help but daydream of the future when they get to do this together every day. Sometimes, he’s afraid to think too far ahead, since he and Jack have only been dating for a little over a month, but tonight, he lets himself imagine a future with the boy quietly humming to himself as he lathers soap bubbles over a plate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they finish cleaning up, Jack turns to Bitty with a sly grin. He swiftly grabs Bitty by the waist and lifts him up onto the countertop, and Bitty yelps and braces himself against Jack’s arms. With the added height, Bitty and Jack are eye-to-eye, and Jack leans in and kisses Bitty. Bitty sighs into the kiss, darting his tongue out to swipe against Jack’s mouth. The faint aftertaste of strawberries lingers on his lips. Jack eagerly lets Bitty in, and the sweetness overwhelms Bitty’s senses. Jack’s hands slide down from Bitty’s waist to firmly grab his ass, and before Bitty even realizes it, he opens his legs and pulls Jack in so that he’s pressed against the inside of Bitty’s thighs and—Bitty is slightly mortified to notice—his rapidly hardening cock. But Jack doesn’t seem to mind, if his soft groan is anything to go by, and his hands drift up under Bitty’s shirt to glide against bare skin. Bitty shudders at the touch and nearly unravels when Jack gently pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been thinking about this all evening, as soon as I got on the plane,” Jack murmurs into Bitty’s skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What took you so long, then?” Bitty gasps, breathless. Jack pulls back and pouts a bit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was hungry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bitty laughs and pulls Jack back in for a kiss, wrapping his legs around Jack’s waist and holding him close. He can feel Jack’s heart beating against his own chest. It’s a rhythm that means Jack is alive, that Bitty is alive, that they’re alive together, and it sounds like the most beautiful song Bitty has ever heard. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~I want more berries and that summer feeling—it’s so wonderful and warm~</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One of Bitty’s favorite things about summer is finally being able to sleep in, so when he finally wakes up in the morning, the sun is already high in the sky. He crawls out of bed and can hear noises in the kitchen, and he perks up when he smells coffee. When he gets to the kitchen, he stops in his tracks, momentarily surprised to see Jack already there and helping his mother with breakfast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Breakfast is </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>thing.” Bitty pouts, squinting against the sunlight flooding through the windows. Jack turns around when he hears Bitty’s voice, and there’s so much fondness behind those blue eyes that Bitty’s pout immediately shifts into a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe if you had woken up earlier, it would still be your thing,” Jack teases, and there’s no bite in his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will not have you chirping me in my own kitchen, Mr. Zimmermann</span>
  <span>!” Bitty yawns and pads over to pour himself a cup of coffee. Almost instinctively, Jack pushes the bowl of sugar over to him, and Bitty pours three heaping spoonfuls into his mug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh Dicky, you’re finally up! We just wanted to let you sleep in, since you always complained about having to wake up so early every day during the school year.” Suzanne ruffles his hair and slides slices of French toast onto three plates and brings them to the breakfast table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wonder who’s fault that is,” Bitty says, looking pointedly at Jack. Bitty glances around and notices the vacant fourth place setting on the table. “Where’s Coach?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s still asleep. He tried to stay up late because he was so excited to see Jack, but I guess you know now that he eventually gave in.” Suzanne laughs to herself. “I swear, you Bittle boys can sleep like the dead!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sit and eat breakfast, and Suzanne excitedly asks Jack about his move to Providence and the Falconers training camp. Bitty bites the inside of his cheek to suppress a grin when Jack discreetly brushes his foot against Bitty’s ankle under the table. He nearly chokes on his coffee when he feels Jack’s foot move higher, slipping up his leg and under his knee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You two have any plans for the day?" Suzanne asks Bitty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bitty is thankful for the distraction. “I was thinking we could go downtown! Maybe visit the farmer’s market and just show Jack around?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds great, Bits.” Jack looks at Bitty and smiles—not one of his dazzling grins, but one of the softer ones, filled with fondness, that Bitty now knows is reserved just for him. “I’d love that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After they finish breakfast, Jack sits on Bitty’s bed and patiently waits as Bitty goes through his morning routine: brush his teeth, shower, get dressed, meticulously blow dry his hair to perfection. Right before they head out, Jack stops Bitty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, before I forget—I have something for you!” Before Bitty can say anything, Jack runs down the hall to the guest bedroom and comes back holding a little box wrapped in blue paper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” Bitty is giddy with excitement (and incredibly touched that Jack even wrapped the gift) and reaches for the box in Jack’s hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s nothing big, they just sent all the players some samples of the new merch they’re rolling out this season.” Jack sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. “I thought you might like this one. Maybe it can remind you of me when we’re apart…” He trails off as Bitty rips the wrapping paper, and Bitty squeals with delight when he sees what’s underneath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s YOU!” Bitty holds up the little figurine and kisses the top of its bobbing head. “Oh, Jack, I love this so much.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack grins, looking relieved. “I’m really glad you like it. I was a little worried it was too much, or that it was too early to get each other gifts, even though it’s not really a gift as much as it’s just some free samples I got from the PR team, but I thought it was kind of cute and that you might like it—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bitty surges forward and cuts off Jack’s ramble with a kiss. “Jack, of course I love it,” Bitty says when they pull apart, “And it </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> cute. I mean, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> so of course it’s gonna be cute. Although they didn’t quite capture the magnificence of your butt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Haha. Thanks, bud.” Jack leans down and buries his face in the crook of Bitty’s neck, and Bitty runs a hand through Jack’s hair. “Should we head out now?” Jack’s voice is muffled by Bitty’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bitty kisses the top of Jack’s head. “Yeah,” Bitty murmurs into Jack’s hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They borrow Coach’s truck and drive into town, their first stop of the day at the weekly farmer’s market. Bitty is sad that he can’t hold Jack’s hand or show public displays of affection in his hometown, so he cherishes the little touches: grabbing Jack’s wrist to drag him to the fancy cocoa vendor, bumping shoulders as they pass by stalls, brushing hands as they walk side-by-side. They make a few purchases—chocolate for Bitty’s baking, some berries for Suzanne’s jam, a bottle of fresh apple juice to share—but for the most part, they just explore and enjoy the experience together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon enough, it’s nearly 1pm, and the vendors begin to pack up their stalls. Bitty feels his stomach growl, the morning’s french toast in his belly long gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to grab some food here and head to a nearby park for a picnic?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d like that a lot.” Jack looks down at Bitty and smiles, brushing his fingers against the back of Bitty’s hand and lingering for just a millisecond. Nothing conspicuous to an onlooker, but Bitty knows Jack doesn’t do anything on accident. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They order burgers at a food truck at the end of the walkway right before it closes, and Jack even impulsively buys a whole watermelon after Bitty suggests it as a joke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are we going to do with this watermelon?” Bitty asks, laughing, as they walk to the park. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I assumed we would eat it,” Jack replies, trying to look serious, but a smirk escapes the corner of his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be smart with me, Mr. Zimmermann,” Bitty chirps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t we going on a picnic?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span> are we going to eat it? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack winks at Bitty. “Don’t worry about it. I have an idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack finds a shady patch of grass at the edge of the park, secluded by the low-hanging oak trees, and Bitty pulls a blanket out from his bag. Sitting on the ground, they’re just out of view from anyone who may be walking about the park, and Bitty puts his head on Jack’s shoulder and breathes a deep sigh. It’s exhausting to have to constantly restrain himself around Jack in public, so he’s thankful for this brief moment they can share together away from any onlookers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They eat their lunch together, occasionally offering bites of their burgers to the other, and then Bitty points at the watermelon sitting next to them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So. This watermelon. What are we going to do with this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack cocks his head to the side and tries to look innocent. “We can take it back home and eat it there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bitty tries to ignore the way his heart leaps when Jack says </span>
  <em>
    <span>home</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Was that your grand idea all along?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack’s innocent facade slips and he smirks. “What did you think I was going to do? Crush it between my thighs?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bitty’s cheeks start to burn, and he backpedals. “I just thought you meant you had a way of eating it now or something,” he sputters, “when you said you had an idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, I probably </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span>...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bitty hides his bright-red face in his hands and groans. Jack laughs and grabs Bitty by the waist, leaning backward and dragging Bitty down with him until they’re both fully laying on the ground. Bitty settles his head on Jack’s chest, and he feels Jack threading his fingers through Bitty’s hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what’s on the agenda for the rest of the day?” Jack asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bitty hums to himself. “I don’t have any concrete plans,” he says, “but I was raised with enough Southern decency to be a proper host and come up with some ideas beforehand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah? Let’s hear them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There are a lot of local restaurants, so we could go on a food tour. We could also go to the county fair, but Mama and Coach are planning on going tomorrow so we could go with them then.” Bitty counts the options on his fingers. “Oh! Madison has a couple of historical museums—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack sits upright, eyes shining with excitement. “Can we go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course we can go,” Bitty laughs. “I had a feeling you’d be excited about that one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s it about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, there are a few we could choose from. There’s the Madison Cultural Center which has some art and history collections, the Morgan County African American Museum… Ooh there’s also Roger’s House and Rose Cottage which are these two cute little historic houses. Which one sounds most exciting to you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack doesn’t say anything for a bit, and his nose is scrunched like it always does whenever Jack can’t make up his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want to go to all of them, don’t you?” Bitty sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we?” Jack looks at Bitty with eager, hopeful eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bitty pats Jack’s face. “Of course we can, dear.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They spend the rest of the afternoon going from one attraction to another. Every time they get to a new location, Jack gets excited all over again, and it reminds Bitty of a golden retriever puppy. Most people only get to see hockey post-game interview Jack Zimmermann; even fewer people get to see the off-ice Jack who says dad jokes with a deadpan expression, or the Jack who sings Celine Dion after four drinks. But this Jack—the one that geeks out about local history, has endless excitement for the things he loves, has energy so infectious that it makes Bitty feel more alive than he ever has before—Bitty knows that this Jack is the rarest to find. It is a privilege to be in this part of Jack’s world: the one that is shown to only those closest to Jack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After Jack and Bitty visit every historical site in Madison, they wind up back downtown. They sit at the curb eating ice cream, and they make up backstories for people as they trickle out of shops and back home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charlie, 34, works at a mid-level management company.” Jack points his neon green plastic spoon at a man in a slightly-disheveled suit entering his car. “He has a wife and young daughter—the perfect nuclear family—but he secretly wants to quit his job and be a classical composer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rosie, 60, single but has been roommates for the last thirty years with a special lady friend,” Bitty counters, nodding at a woman with graying hair walking across the street, and Jack laughs at Bitty’s implication. “They have three cats together and no intention of giving their parents any human grandchildren.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They go back and forth trading increasingly ridiculous stories as the sun sets behind the hills in the distance. Jack takes advantage of the golden hour, rays of sunlight bathing every surface, and takes pictures of their ice cream, the empty streets, the silhouetted trees, Bitty’s hands, Bitty’s hair, Bitty’s freckles. Jack even takes a selfie of himself and Bitty and posts it on his new Instagram (created at the suggestion of the Falconers PR team). He captions it </span>
  <em>
    <span>4th of July weekend in Georgia! xx Jack</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Bitty makes fun of Jack for signing his Instagram posts, and the picture gets hundreds of likes in under a minute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re lucky that people in Madison don’t care about hockey, or else you’d have puck bunnies tracking you down and ambushing you,” Bitty laughs. Jack leans against Bitty, the length of their arms pressed against each other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need puck bunnies when I have you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bitty bites his lip and smiles. This Jack—the one who says incredibly cheesy yet sweet and romantic things—is one that is reserved for Bitty and Bitty alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once their ice cream is long gone and the sky starts to darken, Jack and Bitty brush themselves off and stop by the store to pick up groceries for dinner before finally going back to Bitty’s house. Suzanne tries to help with dinner, but Bitty shoos her out to watch TV in the living room with Coach. He doesn’t say that he wants the kitchen to himself so that he and Jack can steal kisses as they chop vegetables side-by-side, or so that Jack can press lips to the back of Bitty’s neck when Bitty cooks at the stove. They almost burn the sauce because Jack pins Bitty against the counter and they get distracted, but they manage to emerge from the kitchen with a full three-course meal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After they finish eating and clear the table, they finally bring out the watermelon from the farmer’s market and carry a bowl of cut slices to the porch. Jack and Bitty sit on the steps, looking out onto the dry grass and open road. Even at night, summers in the South are hot, and the warm air lingers around them like an all-encompassing presence. When Bitty looks at Jack, the full moon casts silver shadows across his face. It feels like a perfect summer night, the two of them eating watermelon next to each other and spitting seeds onto the lawn, trying to see who can shoot the farthest. When Bitty leans up to kiss Jack, their mouths are sweet with watermelon and sugar, and Bitty feels like he’s on a high.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, Suzanne and Coach come out to say goodnight, but Jack and Bitty stay out on the porch for longer afterward. They stargaze, and Jack points out all the constellations he remembers from his childhood astronomy obsession. Bitty teaches Jack about astrology, noting which of the constellations are astrological signs. Jack doesn’t really get it, but he promises to remember that he’s a Leo and Bitty is a Taurus, whatever that means. Jack asks about Madison, so Bitty tells him about his childhood. Bitty asks Jack about his hometown, and Jack recalls his memories of Quebec and summers in Nova Scotia. Hours pass as they talk into the night. Exhaustion from the day’s activities eventually catches up to Bitty, and he dozes off against Jack’s shoulder. They breathe in sync, inhaling and exhaling the warm night air together, and Jack kisses the top of Bitty’s head before he gently shakes Bitty awake. They go back into the house and kiss each other one last time, soft and short and sweet, and then Jack kisses Bitty’s forehead. They say goodnight and part ways—Bitty to his childhood bedroom and Jack to the guest room—and when Bitty crawls into bed, his phone screen lights up with a text from Jack. All it says is </span>
  <em>
    <span>sweet dreams bits xx, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but it’s enough to make Bitty clutch his phone to his chest as he drifts off to sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~breathe me in, breathe me out, I don’t know if I could ever go without~</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sunlight streams through the window, and Bitty groans and throws an arm over his eyes. Eventually, he gets out of bed and gets ready for the day. He picks out the perfect outfit: a light blue tank top that shows off his toned shoulders and arms, and a pair of salmon-colored shorts that cut off right below the edge of his boxer briefs. Bitty looks in the mirror, French-tucking in the front half of his shirt, and admires his appearance. He’s not usually one to stroke his own ego, but even he can admit that he looks pretty damn good today.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Bitty enters the kitchen and sees Jack, he isn’t surprised by the sight anymore. If anything, it feels normal. Jack lights up when he sees Bitty walk in, and his jaw drops when he notices Bitty’s outfit. Bitty can feel Jack’s piercing eyes hungrily taking in the entire length of his body, and it sends a shiver up his spine. And when he makes eye contact with Jack, electricity crackles in the air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suzanne comes bustling into the kitchen, and the trance is broken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh good, you’re both awake now. I need your help, and I need you boys to listen to me very carefully because I can </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> have you messing this up.” Suzanne heaves a box of clear jars onto the table and rushes to the stove. “I need you to run to the grocery store and get me six jalepeños, but you </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to make sure no one sees you, got it? I can’t have my sister stealing my secret recipe, and you know how word travels around here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack blinks in confusion, but Bitty seems unfazed. “Got it, Mama. Anything else you want us to pick up while we’re there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ask your daddy if he needs anything for the barbecue. I told him to get some veggies, but I bet he’s pretending that he forgot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, Bittle? What—” Jack starts to ask Bitty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll explain on the way,” Bitty succinctly and vaguely replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suzanne tosses the keys in the air. “You can take my car. Be back by 11!” Bitty catches the keys with practiced grace, and he leads Jack out of the house. Bitty gets in the driver’s seat of the car and sends a text to his father before starting the engine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So… What’s going on, again?” Jack asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry about that. My mom can get kind of intense around this time of year when she enters the county fair jam contest.” Bitty twists to look through the rearview window as he backs the car into the road. “She and her sister both compete every year, and they always get first and second place. They’ve been going at it for decades, and the great Phelps jam rivalry is kind of a legend around here now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Got it. Like mother, like son, I suppose.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now what’s that supposed to mean, Mr. Zimmermann?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just saying…” Jack smirks at Bitty. “Dex once said your pecan pie was ‘alright’ and you didn’t talk to him for three days.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well that’s because my pecan pie is a goddamn masterpiece.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack reaches over and laces his fingers with Bitty’s, and he presses a kiss to their joined hands. “It sure is, Bitty.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bitty and Jack chirp each other back and forth for the rest of the short drive, but Jack doesn’t let go of Bitty’s hand until they leave the car. They’re more reserved with their affection once they’re actually in the grocery store, but there’s still a blissful intimacy about walking down the aisles with Jack, dutifully pushing a cart. Bitty nearly has a breakdown in the middle of the produce section because he can’t decide between cherry or apple for his pie filling—apple is a classic for Fourth of July, but cherry has a better visual appeal—and Jack patiently listens and chimes in with his own opinions until Bitty finally settles on cherry. They pick up the vegetables that Coach forgot, and they snicker as they sneak six jalapeños into the cart before checking out. Bitty sees an image of the future, after Bitty graduates and joins Jack in Providence, of them getting groceries together as a part of their weekly routine. He tucks it into the back of his mind for safekeeping, to hold close to his heart when he misses Jack, when the distance between them feels too far. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They drive home, singing along with the radio. Jack has a surprisingly good singing voice, and although he purposely messes up most of the lyrics, Bitty is warmed to see that Jack actually knows a whole verse of “Halo”. They spend the rest of the morning in the kitchen with Bitty’s parents—Suzanne fussing over her famous jam, Coach prepping meat for the barbecue, and Bitty and Jack baking half a dozen pies. Jack lets Bitty do most of the work, since the kitchen is still very much Bitty’s domain, but he helps out where he can whether it’s pitting cherries or passing the sugar jar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At around noon, more members of Bitty’s family arrive for the annual Bittle-Phelps July 4th potluck. Bitty introduces Jack to his family, and Jack feels awkward at first but really does make an effort to talk to them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, so you can </span>
  <em>
    <span>fight</span>
  </em>
  <span> people?” asks Penny, one of Bitty’s baby cousins. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack and Bitty are standing on the patio surrounded by three cousins, an uncle, and two aunts—all of whom knew nothing about hockey until about ten minutes ago. They raptly listen to Jack, who patiently explains the rules of hockey to the best of his ability. He does a pretty good job since Bitty’s various family members seem to understand most of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you’re allowed to check people, which is more like...body-slamming them to throw off their momentum. Fighting itself isn’t really encouraged because you’ll get, um, penalties—they’re kind of like time-outs in hockey—for fighting too hard. But it’s always been part of the culture, so fights still happen pretty frequently.” Jack moves his hands while he talks, and Bitty can tell that Jack is trying really hard since he rarely ever says more than three sentences in a row around other people and especially around strangers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two of Bitty’s cousins fistbump each other and say in unison, “Sick, dude.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But isn’t that dangerous?” asks Aunt Marcie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bitty chimes in to give Jack a breather, and he gets a thankful smile in return. “It is, but that’s why we wear helmets and lots of gear. Y’all should see the goalies—they look like they’re wearing every pad ever made!” Bitty laughs, drawing out his accent in a way that drives Jack wild.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time Coach serves the first batch of burgers, Penny is excitedly tugging on Jack’s shirt asking if she can get his jersey. Bitty’s uncle claps Jack on the shoulder and gruffly wishes him good luck with the season, and Coach’s sisters promise to look out for Falconers games on ESPN. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack and Bitty continue to socialize as they eat brisket, hot dogs, corn on the cob, watermelon, mac and cheese, fried tomatoes, collared greens, and every other dish brought by the Bittles and Phelps. Once they finish their fourth or fifth plate, Bitty notices Jack becoming quieter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bitty nudges Jack with his elbow. “Hey, you feeling okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack’s eyes are unfocused, but they snap to attention at Bitty’s touch. “Sorry, yeah, I’m good. Just getting tired, I think. Introvert and all, haha.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wanna go upstairs? Take a bit of time away from the crowd.” Feeling bold, Bitty continues. “Also...the house is empty right now, and there are a number of things I’ve been wanting to do with you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack’s eyes darken, glancing over Bitty’s body, and his voice drops. “Yeah? Wanna show me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bitty suppresses a shiver. He silently leads the way inside and up the stairs, and the second they close the door to Bitty’s bedroom, Bitty grabs Jack by the hips and shoves him onto the bed. Jack sinks into the mattress with a soft </span>
  <em>
    <span>oof</span>
  </em>
  <span> and props himself up on his elbows, raising an eyebrow at Bitty. Bitty blushes and hesitates, unsure of what to do since he didn’t actually think this far ahead, his brief moment of courage gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack sits up and reaches out a hand. When Bitty takes it, he gently pulls Bitty toward the bed until Bitty’s knees hit the edge of the mattress. Bitty climbs into bed and sits in Jack’s lap, straddling Jack’s thighs with his own, and Jack cups his hand around Bitty’s cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” They’ve discussed their personal histories, so Jack knows that Bitty hasn’t had any sexual experiences other than his freshman year winter screw date and a few drunken fumbles at kegsters. Jack doesn’t have much experience beyond awkward fumbles either, if he’s being honest, but he’s had more opportunities to explore his sexuality. Because of that, Jack is explicitly intentional about not pressuring Bitty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bitty feels his flush creep past the collar of his tank top. “Oh honey, you’re sweet.” He places his hand over Jack’s resting on his face. “I’ll let you know if I want to slow down or stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack nods silently, giving space for Bitty to take the lead. Bitty can see the desire behind Jack’s blue eyes, the lust radiating from his body, and it reignites the fire in Bitty’s belly. He leans forward and presses their lips together, and Jack immediately melts under him. The softness lasts a brief moment, but the second Bitty brushes his tongue against Jack, Jack growls under his breath and yields. Jack runs his hands all over Bitty’s body—his strong shoulders, toned arms, hips, waist, under the hem of Bitty’s shirt and running up his back. Every touch makes Bitty shiver, and each sensation makes him feel alive. Bitty feels </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span>, more than he has ever felt in his life, and seeing Jack so raw with desire makes Bitty unravel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bitty kisses and nips down the length of Jack’s neck, and Jack writhes under him. They pant and gasp, and Jack moans when Bitty tugs his shirt collar to the side and presses his lips against the soft skin underneath. Jack digs his fingers into Bitty’s hips, holding on for dear life. Bitty maneuvers their joined bodies so that Jack is laying flat on the bed, Bitty hovering above him. Bitty pulls back for a moment, stares into Jack’s eyes and sees pure lust and intimacy and something that feels feral, and their lips come crashing back together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Bitty grinds his hips down, Jack moans and arches up to maximize the area of Bitty’s body pressed against his. Jack’s hands wander down Bitty’s waist to grab his perfectly firm ass, and Bitty grinds down again. The pressure of their hips pressed against each other makes Bitty see stars.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Crisse</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Bits,” Jack whispers into Bitty’s ear, “I’ve wanted to touch you the second you walked into the kitchen this morning in these tight little shorts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do it then,” Bitty replies breathlessly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” Jack murmurs against the skin of Bitty’s shoulder and trails his mouth down Bitty’s collarbone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bitty sits back on his heels, and he stares into Jack’s eyes, a serious expression on his face. “Touch me. Um,” he vaguely gestures at his crotch area, “You know...wherever you want. I just want you to touch me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack nods silently, and they resume kissing. Jack gently, but confidently, reaches a hand between their pressed bodies and palms Bitty through the fabric of his shorts, and Bitty whimpers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this okay?” Jack asks, searching Bitty’s face for any sign of discomfort or hesitation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jack,” Bitty gasps, “please do not ever stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want more?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bitty silently nods in reply, and Jack reaches into the waistband of Bitty’s shorts, then Bitty’s underwear, and wraps his fingers around Bitty’s firm cock. He starts to pump his fist, and Bitty has to bite down on a pillow to prevent the entire Bittle-Phelps clan from hearing exactly what the two boys are doing upstairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jack.” A string of expletives fall out of Bitty’s mouth, and Jack’s heavy-lidded eyes flash as he tightens his grip and increases the speed. Bitty pulls at the bottom of Jack’s shirt, and Jack slides his hand out to pull the shirt over his head and throw it on the ground. They continue the heated pace, gasping and moaning under their breath. Bitty feels the pleasure building up in him, his body is on fire, and he thinks he might actually internally combust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, they hear noises from outside the door. They both freeze, wide-eyed and panicked, and wait in complete silence. The footsteps reach the top of the stairs and down the hallway, and they hear the creak of a door opening. After a few moments that feel like an eternity, they hear the toilet flush, the running of the sink faucet, and the footsteps recede back down the stairs. As soon as the footsteps are out of hearing distance, Bitty and Jack both breathe a deep sigh of relief, and then their eyes meet and they burst into giggles. Bitty rolls off of Jack’s lap and collapses next to him, burying his face in Jack’s chest, arm thrown around his waist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...cannot...believe,” Bitty wheezes in between fits of laughter, “that we...almost...got caught!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack chuckles, wrapping an arm around Bitty’s shoulders and holding him tight. Bitty feels so warm and safe laying in Jack’s arms, and any trace of the panic from a moment earlier has long since passed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long have we been gone? I wonder if anyone has noticed,” Jack says, softly stroking Bitty’s hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can just say we went upstairs so you could get a breather,” Bitty replies, tracing patterns on Jack’s bare chest. “How’s your energy level, by the way?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, I think I’m ready to head back down.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack picks up his shirt from the floor, and after checking in the full-length mirror that they look presentable, Jack and Bitty make their way back to the potluck. No one comments on their absence, and they continue mingling and eating for the rest of the afternoon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few hours later, people begin to leave for the county fair and evening fireworks show. Jack carries Suzanne’s crate, packed with dozens of jars of jam, to her car. Coach and Suzanne drive off first to enter in the jam contest, and Jack and Bitty follow in Coach’s truck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack is overwhelmed, to say the least, when they arrive. His eyes flit across the square mile cacophony of neon lights, carnival games, rides, food stalls, and people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bitty nudges Jack in the ribs. “Bet you’ve never seen anything like this before,” Bitty teases. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack shakes his head. “I’ve never seen so much fried food in my life before,” he says, staring up at a massive red sign with a bold, bright font that says </span>
  <em>
    <span>WE’LL DEEP FRY ANYTHING</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome to the South, honey.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once Jack adjusts to the sensory overload, they walk around the fair with leisure. They go on a few rides, but Jack is terrified of heights so they had to eliminate most of the options. They even ride a carousel that was definitely meant for children, but the image of a six-foot-one, 200-pound pro hockey player on a tiny plastic horse was too amusing to resist. Bitty takes a picture of Jack on the carousel, head thrown back in genuine laughter, and posts it on Twitter. His phone immediately starts blowing up with retweets and replies, so he switches off the notifications and slides his phone back in his pocket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bitty is surprised to learn that Jack’s favorite fair attraction is the petting zoo. To Bitty, livestock was a normal presence in rural Georgia, but Jack apparently had a soft spot for animals. He pats goats between the horns and lovingly talks to them, feeds oats to sheep and strokes their faces, cradles bunnies in his arm and nuzzles his face against their soft fur, and scoops a chick in his hand and coos. Watching Jack like this—tender and loving with zero inhibitions—makes Bitty feel warm all over, and he daydreams about names for the dogs they’ll adopt together. He records a video of Jack with the baby chicken but decides against posting it on Instagram; he wants to keep this part of Jack to himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After Jack spends an hour petting animals, they walk around the fairgrounds some more. Bitty buys Jack his first giant turkey leg and laughs at Jack’s bewildered expression at the sheer size of it. They play a few carnival games, throw balls at stacked tin cans and shoot water guns at targets, and Jack is hilariously bad at all of them. But then Jack spots a game that’s farther up his alley, points it out to Bitty, and they smirk at each other. They walk over to the stall and the game is simple enough: there’s a medium-sized goal net, a sheet of plywood covering the net with small holes cut out for openings, a cheap hockey stick, and a row of pucks. The attendant explains the rules: five pucks, three goals to win. Jack takes the stick and turns over his shoulder to grin at Bitty before he takes his first shot. He slides the puck back and forth as if he’s on ice, showing off his stickhandling skills, and delivers a perfect snapshot. The puck shoots at top speed through the center hole, and a few onlookers gasp. Jack continues, makes contact with the second puck, and sends it sailing through the opening in the top left corner. In about thirty seconds, Jack successfully nails every single shot. The attendant, baffled, reaches up to pluck a giant stuffed bunny that’s half the size of Bitty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn, kid. That’s some fancy shooting right there,” he says as he hands the bunny to Jack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack shrugs. “I’ve had a lot of practice.” He doesn’t mention that he’s about to debut in the NHL.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack immediately passes the bunny to Bitty. “Here. It’s for you. Señor Bun could use a friend.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bitty squeals and grabs the plushie, holding it tight to his chest. “I’m so lucky to have a boyfriend who wins me carnival stuffed animals.” His voice is muffled by the bunny’s ears partially blocking his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I’m the lucky one,” Jack replies, smiling at Bitty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>By nightfall, the fairgrounds are packed with families who have arrived for the fireworks show.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you wanna go somewhere else to watch the fireworks?” Bitty asks Jack. “I know a place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack says yes, so they return to Coach’s truck, and Bitty drives a few miles away from the county fair. They’re in an open field, surrounded by dirt and grass, and they’re completely alone. The fair is nothing but a cluster of flashing lights in the distance, and the quietness of the empty area settles in the air. They cozy up in the bed of the pickup truck and wait for the fireworks to start. Hidden from the prying eyes of the world, the freedom to just exist as their authentic, whole selves feels blissful. No sneaking around, no lowered voices, no cautious looks over their shoulders. They can just be together, and they can just be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bitty plays music from his phone at a low volume. Jack wraps an arm around Bitty’s shoulders and pulls him close, and he pulls out his own phone to take a selfie of them under the stars. From the fairgrounds, the first rocket shoots into the sky and explodes in bursts of red and blue, followed by a series of star-shaped fireworks light up the night. Bitty leans his head against Jack’s shoulder. Jack gently nudges his hand against Bitty’s chin, tilting his face upward to kiss him. Soft, warm, sweet as sugar. The chorus of the song swells from Bitty’s phone as they deepen the kiss, and Bitty feels like he’s living in a movie. Jack sucks on Bitty’s bottom lip and lightly tugs it between his teeth, and Bitty fists his hands in Jack’s shirt like he’s holding on for dear life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They pull back and stare into each other’s eyes, the fireworks lighting up their faces in the darkness. Bitty reaches up and holds Jack’s face, brushing his thumb over Jack’s lips, and he can’t find the words to describe the way he feels in this moment. He feels like he’s floating but also grounded, full of fire and completely at peace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack pulls Bitty in for another kiss, and with a hand protectively cradled around the back of Bitty’s head, he gently shifts Bitty’s body until he’s laying flat on his back. Jack hovers over him, hesitating, and Bitty tugs the front of his shirt and yanks him down. He kisses Jack and, feeling bold, pushes his hips to press against Jack. A gasp escapes Jack’s lips and travels into Bitty, shooting like electricity through his veins. Bitty is hungry, and he wants more. He starts to peel off Jack’s shirt and stops halfway, his eyes silently asking Jack for permission. Jack nods so Bitty fully pulls off Jack’s shirt, and then follows suit and takes off his own tank top. Jack wraps an arm around Bitty’s waist, pulling him in closer, and the sensation of their warm skin pressed against each other makes Bitty feel dizzy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack kisses Bitty at the base of his throat, and then he trails down Bitty’s chest, his stomach, and then Jack stops at the waistband of Bitty’s shorts. He glances up and meets Bitty’s eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How...um...what are you feeling tonight?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything, sweetheart. We can do anything you want.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack nods and brushes his lips along the trail of soft blonde hair on Bitty’s stomach, and then he pulls at Bitty’s waistband with his teeth. Bitty arches his back and whimpers at the delicate yet overwhelming touch. The seconds drag on as Jack fumbles with the button and pulls down the zipper, and when he finally pulls Bitty’s shorts over his hips and tosses them to the side, Bitty’s body is humming with anticipation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, you’re such a tease,” he breathlessly laughs, threading his fingers in Jack’s hair. Jack smirks in response and retaliates by mouthing Bitty’s cock over the fabric of his underwear, hot breath enveloping Bitty. Bitty can’t suppress the moan that comes out of his mouth, and it makes Jack grab Bitty by the hips and, in one swift motion, pull off his underwear and wrap his lips around Bitty. It’s wet and warm and tight, and when Bitty closes his eyes, he sees fireworks behind his eyelids. Bitty fists the hand already in Jack’s hair and guides Jack’s head. Jack starts at a slow pace, taking his time to savor the taste of Bitty, starting from the base and licking up Bitty’s length until he swirls his tongue over the head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bitty completely unravels. He’s a mess—babbling sweet nothings to Jack, pulling Jack’s hair, pressing his cock into Jack’s mouth, digging his nails into Jack’s skin, moaning and whimpering and gasping Jack’s name in a thousand different tones. Jack wraps a hand around Bitty’s shaft and moves with his mouth, and he unbuttons his jeans with his other hand. He takes his erection in his hand and begins to pump in rhythm with his bobbing head. Jack hums with pleasure, and the vibration of his throat against the head of Bitty’s penis nearly pushes Bitty over the edge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bitty pulls Jack off his cock with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>pop</span>
  </em>
  <span> and yanks him up until their lips crash together. He plunges his tongue into Jack’s mouth and Jack readily receives, and Bitty wants to consume every part of Jack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veins surging with adrenaline, Bitty gracefully flips Jack over so that he’s lying on his back in the truck bed, and Bitty pulls Jack’s jeans fully off. He wraps his fingers around the base of Jack’s cock, and then his lips follow. Bitty doesn’t have as much experience in this department, but he thinks he’s doing a good enough job because Jack moans in a way that sounds absolutely sinful. Jack is typically quiet and reserved, but tonight, he doesn’t hold back, and Bitty wants to get drunk on the sounds coming out of Jack’s mouth. He tightens his grip and quickens the pace, and Jack bucks his hips in response. Bitty is caught by surprise so he coughs a bit but quickly resumes, and soon enough, Jack’s chest is heaving, and he fists his hands in Bitty’s hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few minutes of the increased speed makes Bitty’s jaw ache a bit, and he’s not sure what to do. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to wonder for long because Jack pulls his head up for a heated kiss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Crisse, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Bits, you’re going to make me cum like that,” he murmurs against the sweaty skin of Bitty’s neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the goal,” Bitty whispers back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack pulls back, and his eyes are dark with lust. “I want to make you cum,” he says as a matter of fact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bitty’s throat goes dry, and he feels the blush blooming on his chest creep up his neck, but he’s in too deep to care. All he can manage to say is, “Okay.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack shifts Bitty’s body until they’ve switched positions again—Bitty laying on his back with Jack on top. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you trust me?” Jack asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bitty nods, and Jack leans down to kiss him. With one hand braced next to Bitty’s head, Jack props himself up and uses his other hand to reach between their bodies. He wraps his long fingers around both of their cocks and begins to pump. Bitty relishes in the sensation of their dicks pressed against each other. Jack starts off slow, and it feels intimate and special. Bitty arches up, and Jack goes faster, and the energy escalates until they’re grinding against each other, gasping and moaning without restraint. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jack,” Bitty whispers, “I’m close.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cum for me, Bits,” Jack whispers back in his ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A shiver runs through every bone in Bitty’s body and he cries out, spilling over Jack’s hand and onto his stomach. A few seconds later, Jack reaches his own climax, sighing Bitty’s name. When he finishes, he collapses on top of Bitty, and they lay in their own sticky mess for a few minutes until Jack rolls over. They lay side by side, Jack’s arm limply thrown over Bitty’s stomach. Bitty reaches down to take Jack’s hand and kisses it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” he says softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For what?” Jack asks, bemused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For...all of that. It was incredible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack pulls their joined hands up and kisses their interlocked fingers. “Trust me, it was my pleasure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They lay together, naked and cuddling, in the back of the truck as the county fair fireworks die down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe I just had sex for the first time in my dad’s pickup truck,” Bitty giggles after the last spark has faded from the sky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack grimaces. “Yeah...sorry about that. I guess it wasn’t the most romantic spot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, don’t apologize.” Bitty tilts his head to the side to smile at Jack. “It was perfect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack wraps his arm around Bitty’s shoulders and pulls him in close. Bitty rests his head on Jack’s bare chest and moves up and down with Jack’s breathing. They stare at the stars in silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They lay there for hours. Bitty thinks about the rest of their lives ahead of them, but right now, he wants this moment to last forever. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>obligatory fuck the fourth of july because there is no independence or freedom when amerikkka was built on stolen Indigenous land and Black slavery. celebrate july 4th by donating to a Black-led org in ur local community</p></blockquote></div></div>
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